Moonstruck
by Shimmerwings
Summary: Belated birthday fic for Angel of Harmony. Whimsical slashy fluff.


**Title:  **Moonstruck

**Notes:  **Whimsical fluff created as a very belated birthday present for Angel of Harmony.  Influenced by fairy folklore in some aspects. 

Luuurve to Jen.  Happy belated birthday!

************ 

            The evening was balmy and pleasant; warm enough to lay sprawled in bed with the sheets banished to the foot of the bed, but not quite warm enough to resent Les' cozy presence curled at his side.  It was raining outside.  A sweet, steady, spring rain that sent a fresh breeze wafting through the tenement to soothe the occupants to sleep.  David mumbled drowsily, a tendril of hushed anticipation threading through his veins, before the muted breathing of his family nudged him towards sleep.

            A tapping noise woke him with a start.  He rubbed a hand over his face, looking around blearily.  The noise came again, more insistently, and this time a foreign intuition seized him and whispered a name in his ear.  Yawning, he slipped out of his brother's sleeping grasp, wincing as his bare feet hit the night-chilled floorboards, and padded silently over to the window.  He slid the window up, not at all surprised to see Jack grinning at him from his perch on the fire escape railing.  "Jack," he acknowledged quietly.

            "Heya, Dave," Jack greeted him in a cheerful whisper, the moonlight casting ethereal shadows on his face.  "It's a pretty night.  Care for a midnight stroll?"

            David stared at Jack, realizing for the first time since he was startled awake that it was still raining.  Jack's clothes were sculpted to his skin and his hair clung in clumps to his cheeks and forehead.  David jerked when a few plump raindrops landed on his face.  "Are you crazy?" he hissed, sleep fled.  "We can't go walking in this.  You should come inside and dry off."

            Jack just flashed him another brilliant grin, head tilted.  "Sorry, can't do that," he laughed.  The rhythm of rain seemed to reflect the sound of his laughter.

            "Why not?" David asked, taken aback.  "Is something wrong?"  He was leaning forward, not minding the droplets eager to caress his skin and tangle his curls, trapped by some new light in Jack's brown eyes.  He felt a tingle of expectation in the air, like static on his skin.

            With a strange, small smile, Jack jumped from the railing and sauntered over to stand in front of the window.  The rain and air seemed to still as he opened his mouth to speak, and David found himself holding his breath to hear.  "I'm moonstruck," Jack murmured, placing a gentle kiss, softer than the rain, on his temple.  The rain resumed then, singing triumphantly as it danced in the air and David was lost, caught and whirled around in the fey mood of the night.

            He nodded.  "A walk, then," he found himself saying, slipping inside to ease into some clothes.  Casting a final glance at his sleeping family, he crawled out the window, into Jack's waiting arms, into the rain's embrace.  Immediately, teasing fingers of water slipped down his face, his throat, into the collar of his shirt.  Jack whisked him down the steps, tugging his hand, the wind seeming to press them both along.  They reached the street with a patter of laughter, a flurry of kisses. 

 David was quickly soaked to the skin, but he couldn't stop smiling.  It seemed like the storm was created especially for them; it sheltered their embraces, showering them with warm well-wishes.  The rain was a thing alive, pushing them in the directions it pleased and singing its joyous song.  The unruly wind urged them to play in puddles; to shout and hold hands and hug; to kiss with the taste of sweet water on their tongues.  They did everything it asked, gladly.   

            Jack seemed at home amid the storm, reveling in it.  He flung out his arms, face toward the sky, and laughed.  Water followed the paths David's fingers and lips had:  over Jack's brow, cheeks, chin, and down the strong column of his throat.  He looked as beautiful as an exultant rain god.  

            Then, before the fickle storm could grow impatient, they were off again, arms entwined.  Time had no meaning to the weather, to the pair of lovers roaming the rain-cleansed avenues.  It felt like minutes.  It could have been hours or days, for all David knew, before the rain slowed and they arrived at his tenement again.  Jack pulled him into a sodden embrace below the window to his home.  He pressed his lips to David's and smiled.  "Go back to bed now, love," he whispered, then slipped away with the last sprinkles of rain. 

Giddy but weary, David climbed back through the window, amazed that nothing had changed in his absence.  He fell asleep with the taste of rain on his lips.


End file.
